


a simple trust exercise

by hackercatz (tsunbrownie)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (mentioned underage sexual extortion in goro's past), (no blood!), Anal Sex, Banter, Breathplay, Competition, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Maids, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Power Play, Third Semester Shenanigans, a lot of banter, maid goro, no subservience. only bastard goro, p5r spoilers only restricted to trailers., ripping stockings, the domkira agenda prevails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunbrownie/pseuds/hackercatz
Summary: "I thought you said this was a deal. Why in the world are you in Leblanc dressed like that?"Akechi's voice is airy as he explains, "because you clearly don't still trust me, and to be proper allies in the battlefield, I require your complete and utter trust. The fracture in our relationship can be critical, and it could damage our formation.""But why?" Akira can't help but whine as he attempts to keep his gaze fixed on the brunette clad in the intricate uniform, "why the maid outfit?"Akira comes home to find Akechi dressed up in a full-out maid outfit. It escalates from there.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 291





	a simple trust exercise

**Author's Note:**

> ive been working on this fic for _a month_ but i've been stuck with a writing slump of sorts (half because of my overbearing schoolwork, half because depression has been acting up again.) i considered skipping out on posting this publicly for a while, because the quarantine is fucking up w my writing skillz, but eh. mediocre output is better than no output at all! hopefully finishing this means i can get my motivation back haha. 
> 
> i think this is less kinky than my usual output, and you could almost call it fluff. almost. well the shuake part definitely is! most of the fic is banter tho. i love these two fighting w each other lol rival dynamic prevails
> 
> no major plot spoilers for third semester, takes place sometime after the third week. and hm very few lines but that's rly it? third semester goro warning! i love him sm!
> 
> uhhhh dedicated to chelsey the one true maidgorofucker of my tl and everyone else in hornytl who had to bear thru my horrible no good wip screencaps ! Enjoy

When Akira returns home—so natural to call Leblanc that now, _home_ —he is greeted by a sight he has least expected: Akechi Goro in a full maid outfit, equipped with a pair of heel knee-high boots and thigh-high stockings complete with a ribbon headdress, even holding a white feather duster in his right as he drinks down his coffee solemnly with the dominant hand on the Leblanc counter. Akira knows from _experience_ the uniform is one of the intricate and genuine ones used in expensive Akihabara Lolita maid cafés, and not some cheap knockoff made for cosplayers to afford.

The sight is so surreal—even when considering that they are stranded in a märchen happy world—that Akira steps back through the entrance as Akechi waves him a smarmy hello, shuts the door again right in front of his face.

He takes a deep breath.

_What the fuck was that._

He it opens it again.

Even as he flings open the front door for the second time, the detective is still there, still fitted with that infuriatingly attractive, borderline pornographic dress. Instead of addressing Akechi, he turns to Sojiro, stage whispering, "you seeing this too, boss?" 

"I'm _here_ , you know."

A deadpan sigh returns his way from his guardian. "He's one of _your_ friends, isn't it? After the model that sleeps in _the same bed as you_ and the... artist one I'm not sure what I expected, but..." 

"I can _hear you both_."

He probably can't keep avoiding the maid-adorned brunette without paying for it with severe consequences later in the Metaverse, so he sighs and rubs his head muttering, "Akechi, I don't even know where to start with that." 

"Personally, I recommend _wow, you're looking absolutely stunning this evening, Akechi-kun,_ " Akechi smirks back, obnoxiously proud of himself for throwing Akira so off-kilter. "I don't usually react positive to empty flattery, but I'm willing to make an exception this one time just for you." 

_Cheeky shit_. Akira can't help but smile at the jab, though—a part of him still can't really process that somehow Akechi is here with him despite everything that's happened, and without any deflection or deception, too. Yet Akira can't say that vainglory slapped on Akechi's face is something that he enjoys—so proud of himself for surprising Akira _once_. Well, he's not called the Trickster for nothing. He'll show the detective, flip this game he's started _right_ on his face until _he's_ the one who is stuttering and backing away. As he always has before, as how their relationship is supposed to function—the two of them throwing light jabs at each other in the for until Akira comes out on top, completely surprising Akechi and flipping his expectations upside down. 

"You really are beautiful, though." Akira compliments honestly, not even having to lie because Akechi was— _is_ beautiful, Akira's always thought he has been, both behind the TV lenses as the incandescent prodigy detective or at the belly of a corrupt ship coming after Akira with maniacal bloodthirst. "But I don't think you're uncomfortable at all, Akechi. Have you worn it before, Mr. Detective Prince?"

"I don't think that's a question I can answer in public," Akechi surprisingly isn't bothered by what Akira is suggesting, his voice only lightly flirtatious with a hint of danger behind those cutthroat crimson orbs. "How about you take me somewhere more private?" 

"Come on then, up you go," Akira murmurs and drapes on the poker face mask easily on his demeanor as he points to the stairs leading up to the attic. "You can't stay here too long anyways. You'll scare over the customers dressed like that, and Futaba and Mona will start asking questions if they arrive. Futaba will probably ask if she could take a picture." 

He shrugs. "She can if she wants, I don't care about appearances anymore." Then, he turns away from Akira to face Sojiro, pushing the cup towards the counter, "thank you for the excellent coffee as always." 

Akira pads forwards towards the stairs but his eyes trail back, still fixed on the form of Akechi carefully placing his two feet on the ground as he gets ready to move, too. Without any argument, Akechi slides off the chair and trails after Akira's lead with a light hum. He has absolutely _no problem_ walking in full drag, and as someone who's tripped in a skirt the first few times he's worn them, Akira knows, _knows_ this isn't even close to the first time Akechi's adorned that dress. Considering how tall Akechi looms over him despite their similar height, Akira can also infer that those heels wouldn't be comfortable to trot in either, yet Akechi shows no discomfort as he hops up the wooden stairs, still wordlessly tailing Akira. 

Once they are upstairs, and Akechi grabs the chair as Akira takes his seat on the bed, light silence befalls the two of them. Thankfully Morgana took leave for the day, freeing the attic to the two of them—having a boy that sleeps in his bed _and_ having a boy in a maid costume in the same room together would be too much for Akira's mind to handle right now. 

Akira breaks the silence briskly by asking, "I thought you said this was a deal. Why in the world are you in Leblanc dressed like _that_?"

Akechi's voice is airy as he explains, "because you clearly don't still trust me, and to be proper allies in the battlefield, I require your complete and utter trust. The fracture in our relationship can be critical, and it could damage our formation." 

"But why?" Akira can't help but whine as he attempts to keep his gaze fixed on the brunette clad in the intricate uniform, " _why_ the maid outfit?"

A fidget, a crack in that comfortable facade. Akechi's body language turns defensive as he crosses his arms and mutters, "In order to restore trust, the most efficient way would be showing an embarrassing fraction of my personality. I chose the maid costume considering two aspects: first, I already had it at home, second, you have ordered a maid to this establishment several times and you have entered the Akihabara maid café whenever you have visited. Five times, actually."

Expect Akechi to take the most efficient route to solving a problem, even if it meant getting himself into a frilly and revealing dress. More importantly... "Hey. Were you stalking me?"

"It was _investigation_. You were the prime suspect of a national case."

"You were hardly a proper detective. You were trying to pin your crimes on me." 

"You are trying to derail the main topic of this conversation. This is about your maid fetish, Akira." 

Wow. Talk about a misunderstanding. "Well, I ordered a maid because," then he holds his tongue realizing he can't talk about Becky, he out Kawamaki like that, "because I was helping someone out, I haven't had _any_ untoward feelings there. Also, the maid café was a great place to raise charm, and they made pretty good omelette, although with too much ketchup." 

Akechi doesn't reply, merely sits there with his two hands rigidly placed upon each other, and twitches. 

Noticing Akechi's unspoken discomfort, probably thinking he somehow shoved his foot in his mouth, he lets his face settle into a Cheshire-like grin as he playfully signals at the outfit, "but what do you mean you _had_ it? Are you secretly a cosplayer or something?" 

Akechi airily replies, "well, they were going to do a whole segment at the TV station. 'The Maid Detective Prince,' they were going to call it. I was supposed to take role as a young detective that had accidentally time-traveled to the Victorian Era, solving the mysteries and the cold cases of the past. The event was cancelled due to the Phantom Thieves' resurgence as I became more known as their rival, but I had to practice for it. I wasn't going to mess up _on camera,_ that would have been mortifying." 

Of course Akechi would find stumbling on set and creating an embarrassing NG scene more embarrassing over dressing up in a maid outfit complete with full heels. Akira shakes his head in confusion. "Still, a _maid_ outfit? I don't know, weren't there butlers at the time?"

The ex-detective shrugs. "It would do better for ratings if I were wore a dress. Not to mention as the successor to Shirogane Naoto, there's been a steady pressure from my fan base to break the gender norm," Akechi explains, then rises from the seat to twirl, doing a perfect 360 twist despite wearing heels that has to be uncomfortable. His eyes are sparkling brightly even under the dim light of the Leblanc attic. "Why, Akira, don't you think I'm pretty? _Everyone_ who's seen me in a dress has called me pretty." 

Usually, maids aren't his thing, but he isn't lying when he gruffly acknowledges, "you are, actually. Pretty, that is. I haven't been lying when I complimented you before." The clumsy attitude of the Akihabara maids never really did it for him, but the fact that this is _Akechi Goro_ in that outfit, the only other person person in the world who could intellectually counter him... 

"The flawless record stays another day," Akechi smirks, pride evident from his posture. His misstep is probably already forgotten in his mind. 

"You really don't need to do _this_ to get me to trust you though, because I already do." It was ridiculous how easily he trusted someone who's been out for his life until a few months ago, but then Akechi gave up his life for him, didn't he? Akira personally thinks that cancels out the attempted murder. "I know you have my back in battle, and I hope you know I'll have yours." 

"Not _enough_. As the two strongest members of the team, our dynamic will gravely impact the team," Akechi murmurs seriously, "and I know they don't trust me wholly, and I don't blame them for. If that's the case, I must at least have _your_ absolute trust." 

"A trust exercise," Akira hums as he observes the cross-legged maid on his chair. He personally sees no point of it, but if it'd put Akechi's mind at ease, he doesn't see a problem with playing along. After all, he's not the one dressed in a short frilly skirt and a pair of stocking accentuating his thin legs. "What are you exactly suggesting?" 

Having gotten his way, the maid detective leans forward, waving his hand as he explains. "Until I leave tomorrow morning. I will do _everything_ you ask me to, short of a few things that I'll call the stop to with _Morgana_. Call it an official apology for trying to kill you back in November." 

Akira smiles fondly. "I forgave you for that months ago."

A scoff. "I know you did, you savior complex charged moron. But I'm insisting. In this world, I haven't paid my debts to you, so I'll pay it back this way. It is only fair, isn't it, Akira?" 

_Not everything is a deal_. Yet Akira's so sick of fighting back and arguing when it's Akechi offering in the first place. For the peace of the other boy's mind he nods and hums, "shouldn't you be calling me _master_?"

Akechi smirks and bows dramatically. Then, he murmurs diabolically, "you treat your teachers that way, _master_?" 

Of _course_ , Akechi said he did his research on everyone connected to Akira. He feels a smile come to his lips. "You jerk, you _knew_. Did you just guilt trip me into going along with this maid thing?" 

The shark-like grin turns sharper. "I was already in this attire, I wasn't going to walk back home like a rejected dog just because you weren't feeling up for it. So, what do you want me to do?" 

Becky cleaned and made coffee for him. The Akihabara maids made him mediocre food and taught him neat charming tricks, but he knows Akechi can't make anything past a microwaved meal. He has no idea what he can really command from the frilly-dressed maid in front of him. "What's your specialty?"

"Detective work," a pause, "making people _disappear_ from the face of this planet both silently and with a loud bang, depending on the request," Akechi winks as he makes a finger gun motion.

"I am not letting you assassinate anyone," Akira glares, only halfheartedly—he already knows Akechi is only joking, he can't kill now, not when he still needs Akira's assistance. This is supposed to be a trust exercise. "You have a feather duster you're holding, why don't you feather some of the dust away?"

Akechi narrows his eyes in disagreement, throws up his head haughtily. "This place hardly has any windows capable of ventilation, our lungs would become the air purifier. Doesn't your keeper have a vacuum cleaner? You bought me _three_ roombas, _dumbass._ " A beat later, as an afterthought, _"master_." 

The raven shrugs. "He does, but what's the point of having a pretty maid in your own home if you can't even have them struggle to reach high places with their feather duster? Get to it, _Akechi-kun_."

The glare does not wither, not even a single bit. Its intensity only rises in its fury. "It won't be worth the resulting lung infection and the trip to the hospital when you get tuberculosis." 

Akira crosses his arms, being petulant solely because Akechi is refusing him so insistently. He lets his voice take a stern tone as he scolds, "I thought you were the maid, not the nurse. I'll take my risk with you, I'm saying I'd drink some dust for the sake of watching you struggle to reach high places."

He's expecting Akechi to snap back furiously like how they usually start their intense discussions, but the brunette just stands there, knuckles probably turning white under the white gloves as he clutches the tool tightly. After a moment of silence—most likely Akechi contemplating if he should go through with this—the ex-detective bows succinctly, the maroon eyes fixed on him as he mutters, "if that is what you wish, master. This place could use some proper clean-up, anyways."

Akira lets his eyes follow the movements as the maid carefully rises from his place and pads towards his desk. "Got any suggestions to keep this place clean?"

"Raze the building down and rebuild something on the foundation?" Akechi chirps brightly as he reaches towards Akira's workbench, thoroughly observing the Jack Frost doll Akira's won in a crane game before rubbing the duster carefully over its head. "Stop living in an attic." 

"Not everyone can afford rent for an apartment in the middle of Tokyo, Akechi."

The maid-detective scoffs, duster trailing down to brush over his books and all the materials for making infiltration tools. "That's not the case _now_ , you have all the money you've got from Mementos. If I could pay off _my_ mortgage without any trouble, I know you can pay off rent for a lesser place." 

Akira shrugs. "Eight people's worth of equipment. Medical supplies. Calling maids to home—they cost five thousand yen a pop, you know."

Akechi deadpans. " _Stop_ spending so much money on maids. It's an addiction. They're destroying your team."

He should probably explain that Becky helps him around with making coffee and curry, not to mention she does the laundry to clean the dirty clothes he finds in palaces. Yet the expression slapped on Akechi is priceless that Akira smirks and murmurs instead, "no thank you. How else would I pay for _your_ services, pretty boy?" 

Akechi dramatically gags, hand almost slipping from the tool. Akira laughs heartily, and he notices a start of a smile from Akechi, too. "You are saying that solely to provoke me, aren't you?" 

"I didn't dress up in a maid costume and went to your place of work to antagonize you, which still makes me naturally better than you," a pause, "not that I would have chosen that outfit, anyways. My type of cross-dressing is more the kinky policewoman set, after all. I might fit right in your precinct..." 

Akechi almost drops his cleaning tool at Akira's words, blush rising on that pale, flawless skin. "Excuse me?" 

Akira stifles a laugh at that. Akechi's original vanity is now nowhere to be seen, so very thrown out of his zone. "A punishment cop outfit, honey. If you're good, I might just let you see me in it, _Goro-chan_." 

Akechi _does_ drop the feather duster at that, expression crossed between vague horror and embarrassed interest. Oh, revenge is a sweet, sweet fruit. 

"I don't," Akechi narrows his eyes, bends his back to pick up the duster, and keeps frowning, "don't really know how to react to that. I just don't understand how you can surprise me even in areas like _this.._." 

Akira shrugs. "Phantom Thievery is a very expensive hobby. I took up a few unique part time jobs for money at the very beginning—this one was recommended to me by Lala-chan, nothing sexual, just a little dress-up as eye candy." 

"Nothing sexual, hm?" Akechi mutters, attention fixated on cleaning and not on Akira as if he's the one who's misstepped this time. Then it gets replaced with an incandescent smile a second later, the one Akira now knows is fake compared to the little curl of his real smile. "Well, that's not important, I've finished cleaning your dump of a room, _master_!"

Akira sneezes. There is too much dust in the air now, the two windows open not doing much for ventilation. Akechi smirks, expression stating a silent _I told you so_. Akira decides that he hates him, emotion easily crossing over to fondness—the default when dealing with Akechi Goro. Yet their competition, silent but none less prominent, still hasn't been decided yet, and Akira feels like it's time to toss down his hand. 

"Come over here," Akira smooths out the bed next to him and signals his maid forward, and Akechi bows with fabricated demureness and pads forward until he's sitting side-by-side with him. Far too much defiance in the eyes for it ever to be true submissiveness, but Akira wouldn't have it any other way. 

"What would you like me to do next, master?" Akechi's eyes shine brightly in defiance and challenge, waiting for Akira's counterattack. Akira feels his heart constrict out of fondness and _I cannot believe he's alive, and he's chosen to come back to me_. 

"Close your eyes." It comes out as a quick breath of air. Akechi, without questioning the order, instantly complies, letting his lids flutter close. 

With those piercing orbs no longer following his every action, Akira carefully takes Akechi's carefully organized hands on his lap and puts them to his side, and once those gloved palms are pressing against the hard mattress, leans forward to let their lips meet softly. What he's expecting is a squeak, perhaps an indignant push, but Akechi somehow surprises him _again_ , accepting Akira's gentle probe by letting his lips part without any resistance. The two of them kiss languidly but no less fervently, dissolving into the taste of each other—Akechi tastes of Leblanc coffee he was drinking, and biscuits.

When they separate eventually, Akira licks over his lips and murmurs, "you're really full of surprises today."

The brunette laughs mischievously. "You didn't buy the whole virgin act on TV, did you? I've told you everything on television is staged before. I dressed myself up in a maid outfit tonight for a reason, and it wasn't so I could get lung cancer."

"You intended to seduce me by wearing a maid outfit when you knew my _teacher_ came to my house wearing one?"

Akechi only smiles deviously at that, completely unrepentant. "It's _working_ , isn't it?"

Akira shrugs. "Honestly, the person wearing it is doing it more for me. My personal preference is closer to catboys, actually?"

Akechi's eyebrows climb and disappear up his forehead. "Should I be worried for Morgana?"

"Not _that_ way—hey, the _boy_ part is important. So, how much seducing are you planning?"

At that, Akechi rises from his place, pushing Akira down until _he's_ the one sitting on the bed, clamoring on top of the raven's lap to press down his ass against Akira's half-hard bulge. Even with the layers between them, he can feel the firm muscle of Akechi's bottom grinding down against him, and he sucks in a quick breath in to calm his beating heart. "This enough a reply for you?"

His breath stops in his throat. He's never thought this was a possibility, because he's thought Akechi always saw him as a rival over anything intimate. But he's been invited into it, and he realizes that he wants this so fucking bad, so Akira slips a hand between the frills of the skirt as he trails his fingers up the silky stocking. "I never thought you wanted me this way."

Akechi laughs, shaking his head. He shivers lightly as Akira's touches rise higher and higher until they're cradling his bottom. "My feelings regarding you were complex that even I didn't know what I wanted with you. I wasn't sure if I wanted to put a bullet in you or if I wanted you to take me against the Mementos flooring. You were responsible for many sleepless nights."

Akira murmurs while reverently massaging and rubbing circles into the taut flesh, "reminded of Mementos, your ass is so nice. It kept distracting me in the middle of the fights."

Akechi smirks, eyes half-lidded as he allows Akira to massage his muscles apart. "I _know_ , I noticed. I always noticed when you were the one looking."

"So, what else can you do?"

Akechi leans closer at the question, close enough to make their lips brush together at a gentle push of the head. "Anything you want me to, I'll be able to deliver." Those words are a challenge as much as they are a statement.

"Kiss me," Akira demands, and Akechi concedes as he closes the paper-thin space between them to lock them in a tight kiss, tongues pushing past to explore every little part of each others' mouth. Akira's head blanks out as the kiss deepens, _he's a really, really good kisser_. When they come apart, his question comes out breathless from the lack of oxygen. "Where the hell did you learn to do that with your mouth?"

"That's not important right now, and you haven't even seen the start of it. Want to see what I can do when I put my skills elsewhere?"

Akira's dick twitches from its confines at the suggestion, feels the breath stop. He never considered himself to lack experience, but nobody's bothered to suck him off before, with the girls back in his hometown never being so keen on blowjobs. Breathlessly, he demands, "get down to your knees."

"As you wish," Akechi bats his eyes in faux demureness before sinking to his knees, undoing the buckles and bringing Akira's cock out of its confines by pushing his denim pants down with a frustrated push. His gaze turns curious as he nudges the back of his gloved hand against the cockhead, watching it jump excitedly. He licks an experimental line up his shaft, and swallows down the precome collected at the tip. "Fast or slow?"

Akira grins. "Just your very best."

At that, Akechi's eyes turn piercingly sharp with malicious intent, lips curling to a devious grin. "You asked for it."

Before Akira can even ask what that means, the maid immediately brings open mouth down on Akira, taking the entire shaft with a single swallow, only stopping when the dark pubic hair is tickling his nose. Akechi brings Akira off terrifyingly efficiently: sucking hard, pushing his knuckles against the balls, keeping a fast pace as he skillfully undulates, barely pulling back before smashing his lips painfully against Akira's stomach. Akira feels like there's a vacuum cleaner stuck on his dick, not someone's mouth as the maid somehow takes him even _deeper_ , swallowing desperately around his shaft. Akira squeezes his eyes tightly, trying not to unload embarrassingly early and ending this experience. Embarrassing noises escape his lips, but he can't keep himself from moaning because what Akechi's doing has completely paralyzed his higher brain functions. "I'm going to come, Akechi," Akira pants heavily. Akechi sucks once, beaming up with pride. "I'm gonna—"

Right at the brink of orgasm, Akechi grabs the base of Akira's cock viciously, stopping the orgasm before it can even begin, and Akira groans, he's so close, he's been so _fucking_ close. When he looks down at the traitor knelt between his legs, he is greeted by the face of the devil staring back at him, malevolently playful as he laps at the swollen head dribbling precome. His lips are swollen shiny red matching his eyes, lip-gloss slick with his own spit and Akira's precome. "I'm not done with you yet, _master_."

He sure doesn't feel like the master like now. He doesn't even feel remotely in control. This is probably what Akechi planned from the very beginning, the mastermind who's plotted the Phantom Thieves' downfall so thoroughly now pouring his keen mind to torturing Akira like this. A part of Akira insists he is losing, and that he has to snap back to throw Akechi off somehow to restore the status quo. Another part of Akira argues losing isn't so bad if he's getting _this_ in return. Panting, he controls his need until it's in manageable levels, straightens his back to loom over Akechi and growls, "then why don't you get on with it?" _Before I explode_ , he bites his lips and doesn't say.

Akechi rises from his place on the floor and smirks, "wow, _master_ , you were going to be happy with just my mouth when you have me on your bed, completely under your mercy? You only get a single chance with me, you know, you can afford to be a little more ambitious. After the way you kept touching my ass, I thought I wouldn't have to lead you along like this."

Yes, that's because. "I don't have any lube," Akira murmurs dejectedly. "I didn't know the evening would lead to _this_."

"Really," the brunette looks surprisingly content at this revelation. "Considering the number of women _and_ men clamoring after your attention I thought you'd always be stacked."

Akira sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically. "Akechi, we talked about this. They're called _friends_."

A shrug is returned his way. "We're less than friends, and it isn't stopping us, is it?"

"I'm still not quite sure how to define our relationship, but we're definitely more than friends," Akira shoots his partner a toothy grin. "We're soulmates. A perfect match. In your own words, thesis and antithesis."

Akechi shakes his head, eyes unbelieving as he drags his gloved hand into a pocket in the dress, retrieving a bottle of lubricant. "At least _one of us_ is prepared."

"That's unfair, you had a head start," Akira points out as Akechi squeezes the bottle and drops a dollop of the gel onto his already slippery hand. "But then you also had a head start in the Metaverse, and look how _that_ turned out." 

"I don't know, I'm pretty comfortable I'll win this one," then those hands are around his cock, rubbing and spreading the clear liquid all over the shaft. Akira hisses at the sensation, because the gloves feel so fucking nice, smooth unlike human skin but still warm from Akechi's body temperature. The knowledge that they'd be ruined irreparably after this only makes his cock twitch harder. "I'm just very talented at anything involving balls and sticks." 

"I've beaten you on that," Akira pants as Akechi continues his job perfunctorily, he is good at this, a part of Akira's brain tells him a bit _too_ good, "back in November."

"I was going easy on you by using my right hand," the brunette scoffs as wraps both of his hands around Akira's cock, tightening deliciously around them. "And I'm using both hands on you now, I have no plans to lose."

"Isn't that enough prep? I thought you were here to serve me." The raven only realizes then that he's far too undressed compared the maid offering himself, grabs Akechi by the waist and pulls him down. Once Akechi is sprawled on the top of his lap, he paws at the undergarment to only realize that it's connected to the stockings and Akechi hasn't bothered to wear any underwear under; it's the _only layer he's wearing_. Akira's mouth goes dry at this revelation.

Akechi notices him staring, because he always does, and the grin only turns wider. "You aren't exactly giving me any commands for me to work with here. Who's the master here?"

"Well, the only thing I can really command you is to shut up, but you're lucky I like talking with you," he hisses as he pulls down at the stockings, trying to reach Akechi's hole. The nylon resists, and between the heeled boots, they're a pain to remove completely and they refuse to stretch and rip even as he chaotically drags his fingers against them. "I bet nobody ever designates you to be their maid."

"That's your own fault, master. And my pretty face isn't doing enough for you? You're quite difficult to please, aren't you?"

Only throwing a glare, Akira rises from his spot, throwing the maid over the bed as he moves towards his backpack to retrieve his trusted dagger. Akechi promptly keeps his sprawled position on the furniture, not showing a shred of fear despite Akira holding an blade in his hands, eyes simmering in silent challenge. He climbs over his lap again when Akira signals him to with only a curious glance of his eyes aimed at the weapon. "Tell me if I cut through skin," is all Akira says before proficiently manipulating the dagger to dip into the nylon to cut through the thicker part of the stocking near the top, the steel meeting no resistance as it tears through the fabric. Akechi shivers and nods as the dagger travels down his navel, feels the cold metal against his skin. Once the gap is large enough for Akira to put his hand into, Akira places the dagger besides him on the mattress before dragging his fingers into the newly-formed hole to tear them apart widely with a satisfying _rippppp_.

Akechi chuckles breathlessly as he feels the stocking bunch up as Akira destroys them mercilessly to reach his bare flesh. Without any words, the trickster continues until he finally has bared Akechi's entire leg sans the heeled boots still covering his feet, cutting at the material where it disappears into the shoes. Satisfied with his work, Akira victoriously rubs the completely uncovered ass, sadistically grinning at the sharp intake of air from Akechi. Not wanting to keep either one of them waiting, Akira slides a finger gently across Akechi's ass, nudging against the hole there only to find it already slippery. His eyes widen as he turns so much harder at this realization. "You prepped yourself already?"

"I hardly have an appropriate skill set for _serving_ in the tradition sense considering the life I've led, so I thought the night would lead here one way or another," Akechi's eyes twinkle, but something doesn't sit right inside Akira's stomach. _He's way too used to all of this, with how he was swallowing me down, and now this_? Akira's fingers faltering must have been noticeable because Akechi's eyes narrow as he grinds down, rubbing Akira's cock between his cracks. "Is there a problem, master?"

"I just," Akira tries to push Akechi off himself, but fails when the brunette doesn't even budge, holding himself down and hiding his face behind by tucking himself neatly between the junction of Joker's neck, "Akechi. Are you doing this because you want it or because this really is nothing but a deal to you?"

"Does it matter?" Akechi whispers right next to his ear, grazing his teeth against Akira's earlobes, earning a full-body shiver. "you want it, and that's what matters. I'm used to it. I'm the pretty maid detective prince, after all."

Akira feels sick to the stomach. _But you shouldn't be, you shouldn't be used to using your sexuality like a weapon and feeling like sleeping with me is the only way to earn my trust when I already trust you with my life_. "Akechi—"

At his hesitation, Akechi's tone and behavior shifts like a cog is turned, and the touches that were feverish mere moments ago turn freezing as they coil around Akira's wrists. "I don't want your pity, Kurusu," Akechi hisses against his ear and soon those cold hands are forcefully laying him down until he's flopped belly-up staring up to an infuriated set of eyes. Akechi's eyes are fever bright and razor sharp as always as he stares Akira down, lifting his two arms to keep him pinned on the bed. "It's _over_ , the conspiracy may as well not exist anymore, there's nothing you can do about the past. Unlike the others, I...I offered first for you. It's different."

Between the unspoken words, Akira hears the silent _I want you_. No longer wanting to dwell on Akechi's past any longer, he takes Akechi's arms by the wrist and overtakes him easily, flipping their position over until he's the one looming over the other wildcard. "That's _master_ to you."

Akechi scoffs but chirps back, his fractured confidence instantly restored at Akira choosing to play along. Despite the fact he's forced down on his back in such a promiscuous dress, he doesn't seem bothered at all, really—all he does is merely lifting his hand to trail his slick fingers down Akira's neck. "Then why don't you start properly acting like one, _master_?"

"Lift up your skirt," Akira hisses as Akechi grips the front and pulls at the many frills to offer the other teen his loose hole, pulling his legs out of the way to the side as he scants his hip up so Akira can observe without any obstruction.

"Like what you see?" Akechi murmurs as he pushes both of his index fingers into his hole, spreading and massaging his slick hole apart. His face splits apart into a sneer at the hunger aimed as his fingers rub sensually, essentially fingering himself, providing a show for those pair of eyes fixated on his every movement.

"You're far too arrogant for a maid. Someone needs to teach you a lesson," Akira hisses as he flicks off his his glasses to place them under the bed along with the knife that's lost its purpose. As he lets Joker's confidence wrap him like a blanket—it's easier being Joker without his glasses, easier being _himself_ without them—he pushes Akechi down by the neck, harsh enough to choke him as he lifts his hips to instantly push himself all the way ruthlessly, sheathing his cock completely in warm heat. As a gasp involuntarily leaves the brunette, Akira lets a hiss escape him too—the walls are so hot and wet around him, and with how close he's gotten with the blowjob, he has to even his breath not to lose it immediately, now _that_ would be losing in a way that Akira can't tolerate.

He keeps a quick, brutal pace solely as punishment for the oral earlier, never letting his face falter lest it gives Akechi a moment to whip his tongue at him again, enjoying how the choked moans slip out of the prone body at each thrust he gives. With their position being face to face there's no place for Akechi to hide his debauched expression and his perverted sounds. The sight does something to Akira, and he growls possessively as he brings the hands down again to choke Akechi savagely, uncontrolled moans falling from both of them as Akechi tightens painfully around his cock in reply. Few of Akira's functioning braincells inform him: _he gets off on this. Akechi gets off to getting choked_. Wishing to feel that impossible tightness again, he pushes down as he fucks into Akechi, eases the grip on his neck when he pulls out, hands and hips synced to the cruel rhythm.

He could come like this, but the left over Akira left in him steps on the breaks hard, shakes him out of the fever-high and informs him that he doesn't want it to end quite yet, not like this. Despite feeling like torture, Akira carefully pulls his cock out, also easing the pressure off the maid's esophagus. Akechi is a mess: his pupils completely blown open, his lips are parted open with a thin line of drool trailing down his chin, and there are purple-red marks blooming on his neck from Akira's hands that he knows will bruise the day after—good thing Akechi enjoys wearing that checkered scarf. Akechi, as he comes back to consciousness, wears an expression of betrayal for a split second before wiping it away with a weak taunt, sneering at Akira. "I-Is that it? Is that all you can do?"

As if Akira hasn't been pounding the spirit out of him mere minutes ago, yet it wouldn't be Akechi if he didn't keep fighting back. Akira's lips turn up to wear a matching smirk as he holds his dick in his hands, and flicks imperiously at over to the side. "Flip over," he commands, letting the absolute steel seep into his voice.

Akechi obeys instantly, flipping to his side and crawling on his hands and knees, offering his ass to Joker. Akira just stares at it, rubbing at the loose hole but never slipping a finger in. He wants more than this, he wants to smash Akechi until he's nothing but sand then place him back together on his passing whim, but more importantly he wants to _win_. "Beg."

The brunette stares at Akira and scoffs like he's heard a joke. "What? No."

Akira shoves in a finger sharply into his hole, finding the prostate easily. He prods at it, watching Akechi's legs and arms quiver at the pleasure. "You wanted a command, didn't you? I'm giving you one. _Beg._ "

Those red eyes shine back at him dangerously. "If you want me to, make me, _master_ ," Akechi spits viciously even as his body shakes desperately from Akira's skillful ministrations, his hard cock rubbing into the soft frills of the maid dress. " _Fuck_ ," he shivers as Akira removes the finger just long enough to shove three in, not meeting so much resistance after all the prep Akechi's used and the fucking. He knows this is not enough to bring Akechi off, even when he's moving those fingers mercilessly to maximize his pleasure, so he waits, trying to ignore his own desperate needs. 

Thankfully, Akechi's desperate. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fuck me, fuck me already," he glares from where he is forced into a pillow, his face is flushed heavy crimson, "h-haven't I been good enough? Haven't you felt how tight I was around your cock? Master," and for the first time of the night, the title doesn't sound sarcastic nor provocative. A part of Akira knows that Akechi's putting up an act, a _really_ lousy one too, but he can't be bothered by little details when he's been driven to the brink himself and Akechi's thrusting up his ass hysterically against Akira's fingers, tightening around them to show how good he can be for them. No, that isn't completely right—the rude attitude only adds to Akira's arousal considering it's Akechi at his most primal state, the Akechi as he truly is that is exclusively revealed to Akira, not the con-man detective prince that everyone else knows. "Akira," and between gritted teeth he barely stutters out, "p-please."

Akira hasn't been waiting for something in particular, but that word blows the dam that's been barely keeping his desires at bay. No longer being able to wait, he fucks back roughly into the crevice, enjoying how Akechi's body crumbles under the pressure and pleasure, limbs giving in as he falls from Akira's incessant thrusts. With the change in position he can fuck deeper into into Akechi, push harshly until his balls are slapping against the plump ass. 

The power of having Akechi under him so vulnerable is addictive, and Akira lowers his fingers until they're trailing down his flank, and rubbing against the hard cock dripping precome all over the inner frills of the maid costume. Akechi shudders and moans as Akira gives him a perfunctory handjob, twisting his wrist to bring the other one closer. "You're not allowed to come until I tell you to, I'm not done with you," Akira growls, turning Akechi's words against himself as he grips the base tightly with his dominant hand. "Understand?"

Akechi nods against the pillow feebly. It doesn't do enough for him. Using the unoccupied hand, Akira grabs Akechi's long locks harshly, pulling them back painfully. "Y-Yes, I understand," he responds weakly, and when Akira tightens the grip on his cock even tighter he quickly adds, "m-master. I-I understand!"

"Good," Akira smiles widely then lets go of Akechi's cock, gripping his ass with one hand and the auburn locks with another, pulling sharply every time he thrusts in just to make Akechi's flexible back fold and the heat tight even harsher around his cock. Closing his eyes he lets the senses and desire utterly overwhelm him, pounding incessantly against Akechi's prostate each time in a cruelly rapid rhythm. Akechi doesn't fight back, just moans brokenly while weakly pushing his ass up to meet Akira's thrusts, lowly begging Akira to let him come, he's so fucking close, _masterplease_. From the way how his arms have given in and folded, Akira thinks Akechi isn't saying those words consciously, he's far too gone to bite his lips and act prideful. 

When Akira feels that brink of orgasm again, he drops the hair leash he's been holding and wraps a tight fist over Akechi's cock. "Now," he hisses and Akechi complies with only a shudder, ejaculating all over his clothes, Akira's hand and the bedsheet. That's what Akira needs to finally release, the borderline painful and blindingly pleasurable bite of Akechi's inner walls on his cock, and he fills Akechi up with continuous pumps of viscous come as he stutters his hips, chasing after his pleasure.

"Fuck," Akira feebly speaks up when his speech functions return eventually, "that was the best orgasm I've had in my entire life." 

"You weren't that bad," Akechi pipes with a voice gone hoarse, and Akira pulls him by the hair just hard enough to make it drop against a pillow, calling it 'hitting Akechi-s head with a pillow.'

* * *

"So who won?" Akechi asks once that's all over, when he's lying over Akira's bed in the maid outfit that is now all stained in cum and ruined, boots off and the pulverized stocking that's been reduced to strips of nylon properly removed. They've done basic cleanup, wiping away all the stains on their skin with a warm towel and changing the blankets, and now the two of them are sprawled on bed, comfortable and sated and far too exhausted to think. Akira is, at least—because if Akechi is still throwing around questions like that around, it must mean he still has a functional thought capacity. Or perhaps Akechi is the philosophical pillow talker type. Akira can't find himself to care too much about that, honestly.

Akira shrugs, pretends he doesn't know what Akechi's talking about. "Didn't even know we were competing. Sometimes there are no one specific loser in battle because all members win. Win-win."

The opposing ruby eyes narrow. "Bullshit to both of that. There is always one person who got the better deal over the other, and _that_ person is the winner." 

Akira's dick is pleasantly sore, and his eyelids are closing together. He can hear Morgana's phantom _it's time for sleep, Joker,_ echoing in between his ears. He yawns in his corner of the bed and curls into a ball. He's not ready to fight Akechi with words after the best orgasm he's had in his life, and frankly he's a little terrified Akechi can even think with how hard he's come alongside him. "Can we say that it was a stalemate like one of our many debates, and call it that? I need to sleep." 

A unbelieving scoff. "Wait, you're going to _sleep_? You have me for the entire night, you know. You're just happy with, once?" Akechi's expression is crossed between disappointment and exasperation. 

"Nap now, more sex later," is what Akira hums before trapping Goro in a full-body hug, tucking his neck between the junction and throwing his leg over the other boy's thighs. "I'm the master, aren't I? I make the rules." 

"Can't argue with that," which Akechi yawns immediately after saying, "your yawning is contagious."

"Good," Akira smirks into the pillow and closes his eyes to sink into the mattress. Before drifting off to sleep, Akira murmurs, "I obviously won today, by the way."

The infuriated, "shut up. You said later," is the last thing he hears before unconsciousness comes to claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE 4/13/20: i'm just here to show off [this absolutely amazing maidgoro art by MilkTea](https://twitter.com/MilkTea543/status/1249695111513964544). it's like 80 times better than the fic so you should look at it 
> 
> "so what exactly happened in the maid detective prince filming" im so sorry goro and i love you sm!! 
> 
> sfw twitter; @tsunbrownie  
> nsfw twitter (18+): @blackmaskfucker


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